


Parts of a Whole

by TS_Anxiety_Angst



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: College AU, Human AU, I mean, I'm trying something new, Other, but yeah, from someone with zero romance experience, more story like, still hella angst, the way it's structured, what else to expect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-23 06:12:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TS_Anxiety_Angst/pseuds/TS_Anxiety_Angst
Summary: Anxiety is a grumpy college student living in a crap apartment that’s haunted by the recently murdered Roman Xande—except neither of them know that bc Roman has no idea why or how he got to be there.Patton is a new counselor and Logan is a teacher in training, shadowing the psychology teacher respectively. The three become unlikely friends (on accident, naturally) and when Anxiety invites them to his apartment, he ends up introducing them to the ghost. The only reason he hasn’t left is because it’s semi-decent, the rent is cheap, and no one else wanted it—claims of it being haunted. He didn’t believe until he stumbled upon Roman one day and he never left.This all turns into a murder mystery bc why not*i swear i'm trying to update*





	1. Lillies

**Author's Note:**

> I took some liberties with their names since this is a human au and while people often share the same last name, I didn't want it to be confusing. Their names will be Logan Skender, Roman Xande, Ann Sanyi, and Patton Sandu. I figured they could be this since "Sanders" is just a surname derived from "Alexander" and the last names are just different ways to say it.

There were worse places to stay, Virgil thought, looking over the apartment. It was technically a studio apartment, but only because it had been renovated and the bedroom was turned into the kitchen—something about the previous owner leaving a bag of burnt popcorn under the bed for too long.

The door led into the open space where a bed/dining room would be. Along the wall was the bathroom, a closet, and the kitchen. All tiny, all barely up to code.

He dropped his bag onto the ground, peering closer into the bathroom. It would do. “I’ll take it.”

The real estate agent looked nervous as he glanced around. “As you know, I’m supposed to tell you everything I know about this apartment. The reason it hasn’t been selling is that people believe it to be haunted.”

“Are you sure they weren’t just making excuses because this is a hovel and barely worth it?”

The agent looked offended. “I can assure you I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts and fairy tales. I’ll take because this hellhole is all that I got and no one else wants it.”

He sighed, shoulders falling though he quickly picked them back up. “Alright, if you’ll come with me I’ll introduce you to the landlord, as per their request, then get everything ready for you.”

Virgil shrugged and picked up his bag. Whatever he needed to do to get out of his parent’s house. It wasn’t just a predisposition that he had such a perpetual sullen mood.

Despite the run down appearance of the apartment, the building was relatively new and had an elevator. Everywhere else he looked only had stairs. Guess the lazy were also the wealthy. He was just a broke college student after all.

The landlord’s apartment tucked away in the basement that smelled like rosemary. Terry (Virgil finally read the real estate agent’s name tag) knocked on the door once before walking in. The room was budding with plants and heat lamps. A mattress with a messy spread was laying on the far side with a single lamp lit on the small table next to it. On the left side, the one not taken up by plants were two table with a cloth draped over them. On the side closest to them, a deck of tarot cards and crystals were laying neatly. The other side was something akin to an altar with incense burning.

“So you think you’re a witch.”

“They don’t think anything,” Terry said, making his way through the clothes on the floor. “They know. Charlie!”

The mess on the bed moved and a curly haired gremlin slowly rose. And rose and rose. They were tall, maybe six foot one, but spindly and thin. Their face was ambiguous to their age. For all Virgil new, they could have been sixteen or thirty-six.

“Who is this?” they said, yawning and stepping off the bed.

“This is Virgil and he has decided to rent apartment 424.”

The sleepiness fell from their voice as they grinned, hazel eyes lighting up. “Is that so? Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Virgil, and I hope you find the apartment to your liking.” They turned, looking over the plants before picking up a small lily plant and shoving it into his hands. “Housewarming gift. Rent is due first of the month with a two-day extension the first three. Now, if you’d kindly leave, I have a depression nap to attend to.”

They walked over to the altar, replaced the incense, and flopped down on the bed.

“We won’t be getting anything else out of them.” Terry turned and started to head out. “Do you have any questions that I could answer?”

There was the question of what the hell was wrong with the person that he’s be paying indefinitely, but there was something else that was more important. “Should I really call them landlord?” There had to be something more gender neutral than that.

He snickered. “Yeah. They said being called landlord sounded cooler than person-who-takes-money-once-a-month.”

Virgil shrugged. If that’s what they wanted, who was he to decide otherwise?

“So, other than that, any questions?”

Virgil stared at the floor numbers as the changed, illuminating a small patch of the ceiling. In a few days, he would officially be a college freshman and deal with a whole slew of new people who would all likely get on his nerves and annoy him. Just thinking about it made him want to curl up and go to sleep. And that wasn’t including the teachers who would likely ride his ass.

Unless Terry could answer how the hell he’d survive the next four years, then there wasn’t anything left to say.

“No,” Virgil said as they stepped into the lobby. “No more questions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I have no idea what comment is, here's another multi-chapter fic that has no real planning other than I wanted this to happen and so it is. Have fun!


	2. Roommate

It had taken only one trip back to his parents’ house before he got everything he needed to get the hell out for good. He’d kept most of his things in boxes from the time he’d moved out a few year ago and never bothered putting anything back.

The only thing Virgil had ever wanted was to move his room and it only took a few hours to pack it all safely into his shitbox of a car. Then, without another word to his parents, he left for the apartment, four hours away.

Since then, a week had passed and he had managed to settle in with minimal hitches. The school was only a few miles away and traffic wasn’t  _that_  bad. The only real problem was that the bathroom light was broken. Thankfully he could see well in the dark so it wasn’t that much of a problem.

Of course, that paled in comparison to the much bigger problem that presented itself the day before he started school.

He was going through his feed supply for the week: ramen, macaroni, vienna sausages, and Arizona tea. There was enough to last him at least two weeks if he was careful.

He plopped down on his futon, now in the shape of a couch and pulled out his phone. He probably wouldn’t be able to afford the plan he was on for much longer if his job was still as awful as it is now. That said, he was actively looking for something better.

In high school, he’d pushed himself in all AP classes and dual credit over the summer to get as many credits as he could. Then he’d taken up all the eight a.m. classes to clear his evening schedule for work.

Virgil slurped down ramen as he scrolled through his schedule. He had it memorized already, afraid of losing his copies of the schedule. Not that he really lost things, but he could never be too careful.

“He should really eat something healthier.”

Virgil paused mid-slurp, trying to decide whether or not he was going crazy. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d thought he heard something. His unfortunately high anxiety did things like that.

“Oh, shit can you hear me?”

Virgil set down his bowl gently on the floor—with his shaking hands he couldn’t afford for it to be broken—and very slowly turned around.

A kid was standing behind his futon. A kid around his age, maybe a little older. He was dressed in a strange get up of dress pants, a far sided button up with a stiff collar, a red sash, and gold lacing around the shoulder of the left sleeve. He latched on to that. At least if Virgil was focused on the outfit he wouldn’t notice the fact that he could see the wall through him.

“Oh, my lord you can see me.” The kid grinned so wide Virgil thought he might rip his skin. “It’s been so long since someone could see me. The landlord doesn’t come to see me anymore.”

He paced—er, glided—around the apartment, waving his arms and half singing as he was talking.

Eventually, because he could disbelieve what was in front of his eyes for only so long, he decided not to question how a ghost could exist and settled on asking something else.

“Who are you?”

He stopped mind song-rant and turned, bowing exaggeratedly. “I am Roman Xande, theater prince extraordinaire. And you are?”

“Virgil Sanyi, depressed piece of shit.”

Roman snorted, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s some introduction.”

“I could say the same for you.” Virgil looked down at his bowl of now mushy ramen. He wasn’t really hungry anymore, but he couldn’t waste food.

“Are you really going eat that?”

“Do you really expect me to waste food?” Ugh, it was lukewarm. There was no microwave since he didn’t think he’d ever need it, but here was with cold, mushy ramen and no way to heat it up.

“If it’s cold, you could just go ask your neighbors.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “If you’ve been here the entire time, then you know I avoid my neighbors whenever I can.”

“You  _did_  pretend to not be home when that old lady showed up with a basket of food for you.”

That old woman had scared the hell out of him early in the morning of his second day there, wielding breakfast food and baked goods. Because he didn’t answer his door, she gave them to Charlie to give to Virgil. Charlie dropped it off while he’d been at work.

“You know,” Roman said, gliding around Virgil. “You’re taking this remarkably well. Everyone else usually moves out as soon as possible.”

“I am a broke ass college student who is barely able to pay for his books, food, and rent. No one else wanted this apartment and it’s cheap. Why would I leave because there’s a ghost here?”

“Because I’m a ghost and we’re not supposed to be real? I mean, I was in theater long enough to know the legends and what ghosts can do.”

“Satan himself could be haunting these walls and I wouldn’t move out.” Virgil set the bowl down in the kitchen and lowered the futon into a bed. “Can you leave?”

His smiled dipped. “Uh, no. I can’t go past these walls, but I can float to the ceiling.” He went up to the ceiling, pressing his hand against it. “Don’t know why I can’t leave. It’s awful to be so full of life with nowhere to go.” He sighed dramatically, floating back down to the floor.

He didn’t have the patience or energy for this—someone this energetic and spontaneous. It was so much to take in and so little time. Not to mention he was so anxious he knew there would be no sleeping tonight. First day jitters were a bitch especially when he didn’t even want to go in the first place.

“Do ghosts sleep?”

“Sadly not, but thankfully I was in my prime when I died so I look flawless always.”

“If you weren’t my unfortunate roommate I wouldn’t have asked. I’m not gonna sleep tonight.”

His gasp was a mix of offended and excited. “I cannot believe you would think my presence was unfortunate. But since you’re not sleeping this also means I can talk to you! I haven’t held a decent conversation in years.”

Virgil laid down on his bed while Roman sat next to him, head resting on his hand. He wasn’t remotely interested in theater, but Roman made the stories sound wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be doing my best to update weekly, however, I’m an inconstant mess and may or may not be able to do it.
> 
> Sorry in advance and thanks for reading!


	3. Greatness

School was exhausting. A little less than a month had passed and he was already wondering how he was surviving.

It was an endless cycle of school, homework, and work. Not unlike high school, except this time he couldn’t bale out without warning. He felt like a zombie most days, barely making his way through the day.

The day he met the second most annoying person in his life was the day he’d almost fallen asleep in psych after staying awake for two days.

It had never been his particular strong suit. Sure he had a good memory, and had aced psych in high school, but only when it came to things he cared about. He wasn’t great, but he wasn’t awful—and that was all he strived to be.

Except the student-teacher didn’t seem to think that was enough. Logan—“Mr. Skender, please,” he would say through gritted teeth as no one, even the professor, called him that—believed everyone was capable of achieving greatness.

It was a great philosophy to have except Virgil didn’t really care. Maybe he could achieve greatness, but he could also go home and sleep with a steady constant.

“Mr. Sanyi.” Virgil could have groaned at the mere thought of answering him. “Since you seem to know exactly what is going on to where you can sleep, perhaps you can tell us about signal detection theory.”

He sat up, grimacing at the lake of drool that had formed while he was checked out. The class was staring, but honestly they might as well have been part of the décor for as much as he noticed.

“Logan, you knew when you saw me half dead over here that I don’t have a single clue as to what you’re talking about.” The last twenty minutes were blanking for him, but he actually did know the answer to that question. He’d done his fair share of research when it can to the senses because his former coworker and almost friend experienced sensory overload.

“Then pay better attention. Now, as I was saying, signal detection theory is the ability to discern between information-bearing patterns and random patterns that distract from the information.”

“Logan, does this have anything to do with the actual lesson?” Jo, the only other person who looked like she was taking an eight a.m. class, looked almost as exhausted as Virgil was, except she was making an effort to look awake.

“Yes.” Logan paced near the front of the room, arms pressed against his sides and hands clasped in front of him. “We have been going over sensations and this is part of it. Now, can anyone give a common example of this?”

“It’s like in high school where in the cafeteria everyone’s talking obnoxiously loud and you’re trying to hear what the person next to you is saying. Signal detection theory allows you to make everything else essentially background noise and focus on the other person.”

Logan stared at him in surprise. The man had decided to wake him up, Virgil might as well participate.

“That is exactly right.” His sentence started out slow but got faster as he smiled. “Mr. Sanyi, have you actually been paying attention?”

“I have a naturally vacant and vaguely irritated face. Unlike yours where you just look constipated when you’re concentrating.”

The class snickered as he blushed. “I do not.”

Virgil pulled some napkins from his bag and began to wipe up the drool. “I mean, you can be in denial, just as long as you know.”

Jo’s watch went off, signaling the hour was up. Logan turned back to his desk, waving his hand as they gathered their things to leave.

“Oh, Virgil, come here. I need to speak with you.”

“Logan, I have an English class to get to all the way across campus.”

“Then when are you free?”

Virgil raised his eyebrows. “Are you asking me on a date?” When he started nervously adjusting his glasses, Virgil continued. “Because I promise you it’s not worth the effort on your part.”

“That’s not,” He paused to adjust his glasses. “That’s not what I was getting at. I just wanted to talk to you about class.”

“In that case, just call me some time after noon.” He took one of the sharpies and wrote his number on Logan’s arm. “I don’t have any classes after then. See you.”

Virgil’s knee bounced all the way through his English and US History lectures. He’d acted collected in front of Logan, but his anxiety had shot through the roof when Logan had said he wanted to talk about class.

He couldn’t believe it had only been a few weeks and he was already failing. Well, he _could_ believe it because he was always half asleep in class, but he basically got everything that he missed once he read the assigned chapter. There could be no other reason for Logan to want to talk to him. At least, nothing he could think of.

Maybe it was that last written assignment he’d turned in, he pondered, driving back to his apartment. He’d done a two and a half page paper in the twenty minutes he’d had before hightailing to class. Since he’d shoved all his classes into the morning blocks, he got done with classes at eleven o’clock. He only came back Tuesday through Thursday around one for anatomy. This, of course, could only work because he was a freshmen and a lot of teachers had morning classes.

He had told his job that he couldn’t work before five in the afternoon and used his spare time to do homework and nap. And right now, the only thing he wanted to do was store up energy for his talk with Logan.

“You look like fried hell.” Roman lurked after me as I lowered myself onto the futon and kicked off my shoes. “What happened?”

“Other than not getting any sleep recently the person in charge of my grade wants to talk.”

“Well,” Roman said, slowly. “That doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.”

“When is it ever not a bad thing?” he groaned, falling back. “It’s always a bad thing.” With his parents, his old teachers, his bosses.

“Good night, Surly Temple.” Roman floated off into the kitchen as Virgil fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Not nearly enough time had passed when his phone start clattering on the floor. He flicked it away to the pile of clothes to muffle it. There was at least three more hours until he had to go to work.

“Hey, I thought you had that talk with your teacher.” Virgil shot up out of the bed and fell over himself attempting to get to his phone before it stopped ringing.

“Hello?”

“Ah, Virgil. I’ve got a free period right now. Is there any place in particular that you’d like to meet up?”

He racked his brain for a place before settling on a place he knew well. “It’s about a twenty minute drive if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Just give me the address and we can meet there.”

Roman grinned as Virgil looked around for his shoes. “You look so nervous, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were going on a date.”

“I’m not wearing enough makeup for this to be a date.” Virgil tied his shoes without looking, years of his bangs falling into his face to thank for that little skill. “Besides, I already told him it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“I beg your pardon, Negative Nancy.” Roman stepped in front of him, hands on hips. “That is no way to treat yourself.”

“I’ve treated myself like this for a long time and I’m still kicking.” Virgil grabbed his bag and started for the door. “It can’t be all that bad.”

Logan, as always, was punctual. Thankfully Virgil’s anxiety had kept his foot heavy and he made it on time.

The café was, as it usually was at noon, buzzing as the workers prepared for the rush. Almost all of his nerves fell away once he stepped inside. There was something comforting about Vanilla Harmony he just couldn’t place his finger on. They were LGBTQ+ friendly and welcomed anyone who walked in the door with the promise of good coffee and desserts.

“Virgil.” And just like that, he was stiff again. Logan waved from the Book Nook—the unofficial name of the bookshelf/couch area. “Thanks for coming.”

“Didn’t feel like I had much of a choice,” Virgil said, falling onto the couch. Not to self, he thought contentedly, come here to sit on a real couch from time to time.

“You always have a choice, even when the other option is unfavorable.” He set his coffee cup down on the table between us. “I wanted to talk to you about your grade in class—it’s the highest in the class.”

He could have melted into the couch with relief. So he wasn’t failing. Then it had to be something else. Maybe he was getting dropped for all the time he spent half asleep.

Logan fixed his glasses. “And I just think you could be doing better.”

“If I’m at the top, how can I do better?”

“By not writing your papers right before class.” Virgil crossed his arms and slouched into the couch as Logan continued. “Top of the class is something to be very proud of in college—especially a course as hard as this one. Listen, Virgil, I can tell you’re smart, but you’re just not putting all of your energy into it. If you spent more time on the work I’m sure you could do better.”

“Would it help if I said I’m doing everything that I can?”

Logan blinked. “It would, actually.”

“What?” He’d said similar things to all of his teachers before and not a single on believed him. Why would they believe he was exhausted all the time and he had no idea why but he wasn’t lying? He was just a kid, after all.

But…maybe he wasn’t anymore.

“You know that I would prefer it if everyone called me Mr. Skender, but I’m only four years older than most of you which is why no one does.”

“And it annoys the hell out of you,” Virgil smiled. “Can’t forget about that.”

Logan sighed. “That seems to be the motive for most people doing things to me. What I mean to say is that since I’m only a few years older, I understand better than the older teachers. The reason I wanted to become a teacher is so that students could have someone with a similar perspective. Mind you, when I’m allowed to start grading, I won’t go easy.”

Virgil snorted. As much as everyone liked to tease Logan, they were all keenly aware that he could pass or fail them. He may have been a teacher in training, but when the professor introduced him as the college senior who was always in his class to observe the way he taught, everyone knew he would be no different from other teachers. That meant the prof. sat in during the first few of his classes and basically left it all to him after that.

Still, he _was_ only a few years older than Virgil. He probably wasn’t so bad as a person even if he would be a harsh grader. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Did you wash my number off your arm?”

Logan blushed. God he was easy to fluster. “Some of the students thought that it was the number of the person I’d be going on a date with. I remembered your number so I washed it off.”

Virgil snickered. He couldn’t imagine actually going on a date with anyone including this pocket protector. They weren’t even friends yet.

“Oh, yeah. There’s someone I want you to meet. Come on, don’t make that face.”

Virgil made no effort to un-scrunch his nose. “Logan, meeting you here has taken a significant amount of energy. I have to work in a few hours and need to conserve as much as I can.”

“He’s the school counselor—someone you should know by this point in the year.”

Virgil sat up and stole Logan’s coffee earning an affronted look. “Didn’t think you drank black coffee.”

Logan clasped his hands together. “The bitterness helps me focus. But with you around I doubt I’ll need it.”

Virgil actually laughed at that one. Most people tended to skirt around him and when they did speak to him, it was simple sentences to get away as fast as possible. His exhausted aura somehow got translated to hostile—not that he minded much.

Virgil downed the rest of the coffee and when he set it down, a waitress with fluffy black hair swooped by and picked it up while leaving the receipt at the same time. “Come to the front when you’re ready,” she sang.

“Can I assume you won’t be the one paying for it?”

“Black coffee here costs less than five dollars. I believe you can ante that up.”

Logan sighed. “You exhaust me.”

Virgil stood and stretched. Logan wouldn’t be the first to think so, but this time, maybe it wasn’t an insult.


	4. Trust

Virgil had never really liked counselors’ offices. They were always where he went when things went wrong. The dark carpeting always made his anxiety shoot through the roof and the blank stare of the receptionists always seemed to bore right through him.

He’d avoid it all if he could.

Except he really didn’t have much of a choice and he could only thank Logan for getting him here. On his own, it would have taken months.

“Hello, Logan,” the receptionist said cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”

“Good afternoon, Val. I was wondering if Patton was busy. I have someone I want to introduce.”

“Ooh,” Val leaned over the counter to get a better look at Virgil who was hovering behind Logan. “Is this your S.O.? Are you finally dating like I’ve been saying you should?”

“As cute as he is when he blushes, we’re not together,” Virgil said as Logan fumbled his words.

“Shame,” she grinned. “You’re cute together. It’d be a problem if he were a real teacher though.”

“I  _am_  a real teacher,” he said, finally getting a grip. “Just because it’s an internship doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

“Of course, of course. Don’t you have a class to be getting to anyhow? It’s nearly two.”

He checked his watch. “Looks like.” He turned to Virgil. “I just wanted you to introduce yourself to him because he’s one of the best counselors here. You may like him.”

“I don’t like very many people. And most people don’t like me.”

“Compared to Patton, you bring in a lot less sunshine which can be unbearable. See you in class, Virgil.”

“Patton is actually in his office right now,” Val said after Logan walked away. “You can go in and see him. His office number is 242. Just knock.”

Virgil shuffled down the hall past the receptionists’ desk, counting room numbers until he reached the appropriate one.

“Come in,” a cheerful voice said when Virgil knocked. Patton was sitting behind a medium sized metal desk, office supplies messily pushed away from where he was working. Counselor Patton Sandu read the name plaque sitting on the very edge, waiting to tip over.

His office felt like the definition of cozy: a couch was against one wall with five or six pillows stacked on it, a fluffy armchair sat adjacent to it, and a glass coffee table brought it together. It was like a spread from a magazine, but the little imperfect details (the stain on one of the pillows, the fraying on the chair, the coffee ring stains on the table) did the one thing those magazines didn’t: it made the space look lived in.

“Please, please come sit.” He stood, shoving his stack of papers to the side, giving Virgil his full attention. He held his hand out as he smiled. “You must be Virgil. Logan said he would be bringing you by. It’s very nice to meet you, kiddo. I’m Patton Sandu.”

Virgil warily took it. He wasn’t big on physical contact. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Sandu.”

“Just call me Patton, kiddo.”

“Mr. Patton, I guess.” Virgil sat on the couch and nearly melted into it. He really,  _really_  needed a decent couch—he was eighteen and already had back problems.

Patton moved around the room to a small table where he kept a coffee pot, what looked like a variety of teas, and coffee creamers.

“Do you want some tea?”

“No, thank you.”

Patton turned on the coffee pot, pouring in water that had become cold. He sat on the chair adjacent to the couch, smiling. “Logan has told me quite a bit about you. I haven’t seen him so excited about one of his students in a long time.”

If Virgil’s memory was right, Logan had only started as a student teacher this year, so what was Patton talking about?

“Oh, right. I forgot he doesn’t talk about himself much.” Patton leaned forward, speaking his body as well as his words. “He was a junior when I was a senior, and he had all advanced classes so I saw a lot of him. Once it became known that he was good at a subject, and didn’t mind teaching it to others in an easy to understand way, he began to refer to them as his students instead of classmates. He’s always been a teacher at heart.”

“He once said that us learning things was the closest he’d ever be to feeling love.”

Patton laughed, and Virgil felt himself almost smiling too. He just had one of those smiles that was contagious.

“He also once said that he was always serious because he wears a necktie.” He chuckled again. “Well, Logan thinks you could be something wonderful. He thinks that you have the potential to be anything you put your mind to. I believe you can, too.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Patton shrugged. “I don’t need to know you to believe in you. Do you think new parents don’t believe that their children won’t make it to adulthood? I believe that each and every student can be what they put their minds to.”

The coffee pot beeped, making Virgil jump. He pulled out his phone, merely out of habit—his nervousness has him constantly checking them time, even when he had nowhere to be. Fortunately for him, he did, and he was going to miss out on valuable sleep if he stayed any longer.

Virgil left Patton’s office with a hard to place feeling. It helped him to sleep after he got home and stayed with him throughout his shift at the restaurant.

It wasn’t until a dad and his kid came in to get seated that he figured it out. The kid was running around the waiting area while her dad watched fondly. When their name was called, the dad scooped up the kid, bringing down a shower of kisses on her head, sending her into a fit of laughter.

It was comfort, he realized. It was the first time in a long time he’d felt comfort from someone.

Virgil wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but he didn’t necessarily hate the feeling either. It was the first time in a long time that he felt this way.

It didn’t take long for Virgil to begin visiting Patton more often. At first, it was so he could start discussing his plans and schedule for next year—he could never begin those too early.

Even after he had gotten all his planning done, he felt drawn to Patton’s office each day. First it was because he needed quiet and couldn’t bother with the journey home. Then it was because Logan had sent him out of the room for purposefully distracting him; like it was Virgil’s fault he was so susceptible to word association games.

It was almost two week before he admitted he was going there because he liked to be around Patton.

Virgil wasn’t fond of liking people. It just made it easier for everyone to get hurt and normally he avoided making friends as much as possible. But he  _liked_  liking Patton. He liked that Patton didn’t mind that he would crash on his couch because his job was closer to the school than his apartment. He liked that Patton never judged him and made him feel included. He liked that Patton’s fondness of him was more genuine than anything else in his life.

And he  _really_  liked the pocket protector. Something he was most definitely not used to even if the fact that Logan was basically his teacher was cut out of the mix. But, like many other things in his life, he ignored it in hopes it would go away.

Virgil didn’t even want to admit the three of them were any closer than they had a right to be as faculty members and a student. It wasn’t until Roman, his ever present, optimistic housemate, pointed it out.

“You spend way too much time away from here,” he complained, laying on his stomach, midair. “You used to be here more often. Now you just go everywhere with your new friends.”

“I don’t go anywhere but school and my job,” Virgil said, rolled onto his back. He had been trying to sleep, but another bout of vague anxiety had decided that wasn’t going to happen. “And they aren’t my friends.”

“Really?” he raised his eyebrow, his signature look of I’m-right-and-here’s-how. “Check it, you spend most of your time outside of class with Patton and Logan, right? I mean, even in class you still call him by his first name when half the class has started calling him Mr. Skender.”

“Roman, shut up.” Virgil pressed his hand against his chest. His heart had already been beating fast, but now Roman was giving it a reason to.

He continued, obviously not listening to Virgil. “You call Patton by his first name, too, and  _he’s_  a counselor. Regardless of if has asked you to call him by his first name, you don’t even call him  _Mr_. anymore. You spend your down time with them and you talk about them a lot here. Makes me want to meet them, actually.” He added this last part as an afterthought before actually looking at Virgil.

He was curled up on his sides, trying to not let Roman see how badly he was crying. He knew, of course, that everything Roman was saying was true. He knew that, but it being said aloud made him realize he’d come to care about people. He’d come to care about Logan and Patton and he couldn’t bear to think about the last time he’d done that. The last time he’d loved someone…

“Oh, shit, uh, what—” Roman cut himself off, awkwardly clearing his throat. “I’ll be in the bathroom.

Roman could have been speaking to a wall for all Virgil noticed. His hands started shaking and he tried to remember his breathing exercises.

His brain fumbled for a moment before grasping the words that calmed him down when his mind was in a storm:  _Breathe in for four seconds. Hold your breath for seven seconds. Breathe out for eight seconds. Repeat until you can breathe normally again, until your hands are still again._

\---

“What do you mean you don’t have a bed?” Patton stared at Virgil with the most affronted look on his face.

“I  _have_  a bed. It also happens to be a couch, too.”

“Technically it’s sufficient,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses.

Patton looked like he couldn’t tell who to be upset with as he moved to make another pot of hot water. The three of them were, like most Sundays, in Patton’s office. Patton was here because he never seemed to be able to get his work done at his home. It was  _too cozy_  according to him. Logan liked to have background noise, and Virgil and Patton talking were enough. Virgil was there because, well, he didn’t have anything else to do. He always did everything as soon as possible, so there was nothing.

It’s true that he could have stayed at his apartment to keep Roman company, but his dramatic ass insisted he go out and at least get some sun.

“Go,” Roman said as he laid the back of his hand on his forehead. “You must go on without me. For I can no longer step foot in the sun.”

“Lord, I don’t have the energy for this.” With that, Virgil left Roman to wander around the small apartment. And he was here, debating whether or not a futon was suitable for sleeping.

“It wouldn’t sell so massively if they weren’t suitable,” Logan said, barely glancing up from the papers he was looking over.

“Just because it’s suitable doesn’t mean it’s good,” Patton said, flopping back down on the arm chair. “Lots of things are considered suitable, but aren’t up to what they should be.”

“The school system, for one thing,” Virgil pointed out. “The government.”

“We know you hate  _The Man_ , but please. We’re trying to have a decent conversation.”

“You look like  _The Man_ , Logan, it’s hardly my fault that most discussions with you turn into arguments.”

“Anyhow,” Patton said, changing the subject back to its original topic. “I think we should get you a bed.”

“Uh, I don’t…I don’t think so, Patton. I’m fine with the futon.”

“But I’m not fine with you having a futon. It’s bad for your physical health. As a counselor, I have to look out for these kinds of things. Maybe we should head over to your apartment to see what size you need.”

“If you wouldn’t do that for any other student, then don’t do it for me. But, if you want to come to my apartment because you want to, then I wouldn’t mind.” His apartment was never dirty—he never knew when Charlie would come swooping in to collect rent or when the old lady (“Call me Joanne, dear,”) next door would try to solicit his time with gift baskets.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Patton popped up from his chair and moved to the coffee pot. “Do you want to come, Logan?”

Logan glanced down at his spread of papers and sighed. “I suppose. I’m almost done anyway.”

“Great!” Patton grinned and clapped his hands together. “We can follow you there and next time I see you, I can get you a gift for inviting me over.”

“That’s… That’s not how that works.”

“It can be if you want it to. Lead the way, Virge.” Virgil ducked his head as he led them out. The two of them had taken to calling him that nickname. He pretended to be annoyed by it, but he loved it. It had been a long time since someone had given him a nickname.

As he led them out of the parking lot, he felt…Lord he almost felt normal. There was, of course, his normal amount of anxiety that was ever present, but right then, he felt like it was receding.

“Be wary of my neighbors,” Virgil said, as he looked for signs that Joanne was asleep. “One of them likes to give me food.”

“Aww, that’s so nice of them.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I can eat all of the food myself. It’s always huge gift baskets.” Thankfully Joanne was asleep if the sign on her door was any indication:  _Bitch at Rest_.

His door was already unlocked which meant Charlie had been in here again. since he had been spending so much time away, Roman had “been in distress and caused me headaches so bad I can’t sleep so I have to spend time with him” according to them. It wasn’t Virgil’s fault Roman was too prideful and dramatic to ask for him to stay.

“Do you want us to take our shoes off?”

“If you want.” His apartment was, as always, cleaned and organized. Even if he didn’t have a roommate (who, had he been alive, would have been messy), he liked everything to be easy to find. “It’s not much, but it’s what I’ve got.”

When silence answered, he turned around to see what had happened.

Logan and Patton were standing stock still, heads inclined slightly up.

Roman was floating slightly above them, eyes wide.

It went on for a second too long and Virgil began to wonder if they were even breathing. He brought his hands together, clapping loud enough to startle everyone.

“Roman, stop staring and get to the ground.” Virgil turned to Logan and Patton, who were trying their hardest to comprehend what was in front of them. Logan was the first to recover, his shocked expression replaced with a curious, contemplative one. Logan began circling Roman, oddly predatory.

“Logan, Patton—this my ghost roommate, Roman. Roman—Patton and Logan.”

Roman crossed his arms and glided away from Logan. “I would prefer it if you didn’t, calculator watch.”

Logan stopped then turned to Virgil. “How?”

Virgil shrugged. “Don’t know, didn’t really care.”

And then, because enough this things weren’t happening at the moment, Patton began to cry.


	5. All for One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: MENTIONS OF HANGING, DEATH, CUTTING, SL*T WRISTS

Logan and Virgil hurried Patton over to the futon where he could sit without fearing falling over. Virgil had never seen Patton cry and had no idea what to do. Natch, he never really knew what to do when someone was crying. Logan looked more lost than he did, hovering worriedly over him.

Roman didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, so he hung back, wringing his hand and absently phasing through the wall between the kitchen and walkway.

It took a while for the crying to stop, his hiccups still making everyone uneasy.

“Uh, Patton? Are you… Are you going to be alright?”

He nodded, blowing his nose on the tissues Virgil offered him. Patton’s eyes were locked onto Roman as he said, “It’s just that I know you.”

Virgil had never seen Roman move so quickly. He was kneeling in front of Patton before any of them could even blink. “Really? How? Who were to me? When did we meet? Do you know what happened and why I can’t leave?”

“I, uh,” He blew his nose again, balling up the tissue in his hand. “I was a senior when you were a junior. At the time I was shadowing one of the counselors—he’s retired now—and you were one of the students who would regularly go to him for advice. Eventually, you started coming to me since it was more convenient.”

Patton started to wring his hands together and Virgil tried to contain the anxiety creeping up on him.

“Then, halfway through the year, you went missing. No one could figure out why, but we weren’t especially worried. You disappeared all the time to do something dramatic. About a week later, though, you were found in the theatre.”

Patton cut himself off, getting choked up again. Logan placed his hand on Patton’s shoulder, one of the few things he knew he could do to help.

Logan stood up straighter as if bracing himself. “I knew you as well. Knew _of_ you, more like. You were popular and almost everyone knew your name if not your face.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “A few kids who had come into the theatre for early practice found you hung from the catwalk, wrists slit but no blood. No one would go to the theatre for weeks.”

Roman started to flicker, almost like he was glitching. Virgil felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it. Slit wrists were a sensitive topic and always made his itch. He rubbed them to keep the feeling at bay but kept his eyes in Roman.

He was pretty annoying. And dramatic and arrogant. Virgil had always been sure he’d been all of those things and more when he was alive, but he never thought of _how_ Roman had actually died. He figured that maybe some unfortunate accident had resulted in his ghostly roommate.

Logan took his hand back, clasping them behind his back. “An investigation was held and the police tried for a month to find out who was responsible, but there was no such luck.” He turned to Virgil. “You should know at least some of this.”

“I…I didn’t pay much attention.” He’d been stumbling through the first few weeks on minimal sleep and the need to only pass his classes. After that, he’d been busy focusing on not ruining the unsteady relationship he’d developed with the two of them.

Roman stopped flickering and began to pace. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Okay.” He stopped to face them, lucky he didn’t need to balance or else he’d have fallen. “Alright, I know how I died now. That’s…that’s something. It’s better than nothing. Just… I just want to know why? Why did someone decide I looked better as a real corpse than a fake one? Why am I stuck here? Why can’t I remember anything specific about my life?”

“I may be able to help with that.” Virgil moved to his kitchen, grateful for a chance to finally be useful. “My landlord is a witch and they might be able to help us.”

“Witches don’t exist,” Logan said. Even though his back was to the teacher, Virgil knew he was obnoxiously adjusting his glasses.

“You have a ghost standing in front of you right now and you don’t believe in the possibility of witches?” Patton let out a small chuckle, still wiping the tears from his eyes.

“There are many things that which can’t be explained in the world, but everything moves to some rhythm of logic. A ghost could merely be the consciousness of a human being that was left behind.”

“You can think that, but don’t believe in witches?”

Their conversation was cut short by a loud knock at the door. Charlie had either been prepared or hauled ass up the stairs. Considering all that he knew about them, he figured it had to be the first option.

They let themselves in, a lumpy looking bag tossed over one shoulder and a black cat on the other. “I’m just gonna set up over here. Exposit on your friends and then we can get on with this.”

Virgil didn’t know if he should be offended or not, but so many things were happening at once that he was just grateful he was no longer the person in charge.

“Patton, Logan—this is my landlord Charlie. They’re a witch. Charlie—Patton and Logan.” There was no need to introduce Roman and Charlie since they already knew each other.  “According to Charlie, there something at connects and me and Roman since it didn’t take long at all for me to start seeing him. And I guess that means there something connecting all of us since you guys can see him too.”

“Very specific,” they said. Even though he couldn’t see them, he knew they were rolling their eyes. Tally, the aforementioned black cat, familiar, and friend, watched them from the futon.

“You’re the one who didn’t bother to explain everything.” Granted, what they managed to get through to him while they were suffering from migraines was pretty amazing.

“Okay,” They sat back, looking at the pentacle they’d drawn on his floor. How long would that take to clean? “Life after death is kinda a half truth. I mean, there aren’t _supposed_ to be any ghosts, but then we have cases like Roman who are stuck here because something powerful decided he needs to be here.”

They waved us over. “Sit with me, I need all of you. Roman, get in the pentacle if you ever want to leave this apartment.” He was in there in a blink of an eye. “Anyway, when we die, our souls get reborn. But sometimes, something akin to a glitch happens and the soul gets split. However, just because souls are connected, doesn’t mean they used to be the same person. They could have been lovers or family or close friends or even enemies.

“For all we know, the four of you could have all been the same person.”

Logan scoffed and readjusted his glasses. Even sitting he kept his back straight and looked teacherly. “I doubt the four of us could be coordinated enough to make a functioning human.”

They snorted. “Who said anything about functioning?” Tally came and rubbed their body against Charlie. “But if I were being honest, which I always am because lying takes too much energy, you’d all make a pretty amazing person.”

“Because I would be the most relevant,” Roman said, his strident personality shining through again.

“If that were the case, he would be fool hardy indeed,” Logan grumbled.

“Aww, I’m sure that’s not the case, Teach,” Patton smiled. “Roman makes for a wonderful leader.”

“Whether or not that’s true doesn’t matter because whatever part of him would be the most prevalent is arbitrary.” Charlie shooed Tally back to the futon. “Alright, losers, hold hands.”

“I’m not big on touching.” Virgil leaned away from them. It wasn’t really a lie, but it also wasn’t the truth. He craved affection, but he was too afraid to ask for it and too used to not getting it.

“Virgil, I understand, but we _need_ to help Roman. Like I said, you four are connected. _Connected_ in a way that all of your life forces are connected. _Connected_ in a way that all of you will feel trapped no matter what you do as well. _Connected_ in a way that if we don’t figure this out, what happened to him could happen to the rest of you. Now shut your holes and hold hands.”

Virgil could hardly believe they had sped over the fact that all of them could die in a very painful and awful way if they didn’t figure this out, but decided to hold his questions until Charlie was less irritable.

“Alright, focus all of your energy on Roman and do not open your eyes until I say you can. This is nothing any of you want to see.”

It was the weirdest feeling, being part of this. Not just because he was holding hands when he would prefer to be very far away from everyone, but because he felt like he knew them. He felt like he knew them more than he knew himself. But that couldn’t be possible. Not when he’d only known them for a few months.

Sure, he knew that Logan was a sucker for word association games and flailed a lot when he was flustered. He knew that Patton only used his authoritative voice when he was irritated and that he couldn’t help but make bad jokes. He knew that Roman had been in theatre since middle school and owned a samurai sword for years.

He knew that all of that from time spent with each of them.

But he also knew so much more.

When Logan was little, he would sit on the edge of the playground reading because no one wanted to play with him.

Even to this day, Patton refused to let anyone be alone because he hated it when he was younger.

Roman had braces for all of middle school—and he was teased relentlessly for it and still hated the way his smile looked.

He tightened his grip on Patton and Logan once he realized that if he knew these things, there was no way that the others weren’t privy to the things he hadn’t told. Things he hoped they would never know.

Virgil tried to calm his breathing. He didn’t need to have another attack right now. There were bigger, more important things to worry about than his meager fears.

More important…

More…important…

It was too late. He was already spiraling out of control. His breath started to hitch and his heart began to beat too fast. He struggled to stay sitting up.

“Virgil, I need you to breathe.” Charlie’s voice seemed too far away. “If you keep going like this—”

“I’m fine,” he choked out. He held on to the others as if they could anchor him to reality. “Keep going.”

Charlie grumbled like they wanted to say something else, but they’d been bothering Virgil long enough to know when he had his mind set on something, there was almost no way to change it.

“Just…just prepare yourself.”

“Prepare for wha—?”

Virgil didn’t have time to finish his sentence before he was overwhelmed by a vision so powerful it wasn’t even painful. It wasn’t sharp or piercing.

It was just nothingness.

And that was much worse.


	6. Nothingness

Virgil was used to feeling nothing.

When he had been left alone for days and weeks everything blurred together and everything had seemed awful. If he were being honest, most of that year had been a blur of nothingness.

But this was a different type. This was the type of loud silence, devastating calm he couldn’t handle. The type that was beyond fear and pain.

The type that could watch a brutal murder without caring.

\- - -

He was moving before he was even fully awake. An unfortunate amount of experience kept him from throwing up until he reached the toilet. He felt like his stomach was trying to crawl out of his throat and honestly he could blame it. After what he saw… What he experienced…

Noise from his living room made him seize up. Who was in his apartment? If the light coming through the window was correct, he should have been alone save for Roman.

“It’s just Patton.” Roman hovered worriedly by the door trying not to crowd Virgil. “They stayed the night when you passed out. They tried to wait for you to wake up then passed out themselves.”

Virgil rinsed out his mouth before looking out at them. The two of them were sound asleep on a mattress with a space in the middle where he assumed he had been sleeping. Of course, none of that made sense. He didn’t have a mattress and he didn’t like being close to people even when he was asleep.

“Where did that mattress come from?”

Roman eyed him for a moment before asking, “Is that just something you do? Focus on the more mundane thing to avoid the bigger one.”

“Yes, it helps me not freak out.”

“Charlie brought it up and decided to give it to you. They said it’s nonrefundable.”

Virgil sighed, sliding down the wall and shaking his head. He’d told them several times that if he wanted one he’d get it.

“They said they’d be back pretty soon—”

Charlie slammed the door open, a basket heaping with goods in their arm. “Hope you heathens are awake because Joanne made food for us.” They kicked the door shut, startling Patton and Logan awake. “All you need to eat something.”

“I’m sure there is a better way of waking us,” Logan mumbled into his pillow.

They shrugged as they set the basket onto the futon and started spreading everything out like it was a picnic. Everyone gathered around despite the oddness of the situation. Virgil was starving and he had seen weirder things last night.

“Guys, think it’d be best if you all took the day off.”

Everyone stopped eating. Maybe it had just been him, but the last thing Virgil wanted to do was sit at home and stew in what he’d just saw.

“I do realize what’s going through your pretty little heads—I was there too. But you all exerted an insane amount of energy to pull that off. Magick is no easy feat even for experienced witches at times. The only reason you were able to pull it off is because you’re all connected. Do not downplay the extent of what you did.” They made eye contact with everyone before reaching into the basket and pulling out several thermoses of coffee. “It’s typical for someone who’s practiced for the first time to rest an entire day. However, you are not witches and I am not your mentor so you can do what you feel is best.”

“I think it would be a good idea to rest,” Patton started. “But I also think we’re all too restless to just sit around.”

“I concur,” Logan said, sipping his bitter coffee. “I don’t think any of us want to be alone with our thoughts.”

Even dreams would have been too much at this point, Virgil thought to himself. He just needed to focus on something else for a while. They all did.

After they ate, Charlie shooed them out of the apartment. “I’ve got some witchy stuff to do here. When you come back, we can talk more.”

Roman followed them out, opting to hang out with Patton for the day. “He knows me—or at least knows stuff about me. Everything’s kinda hazy so I just want to talk.”

Logan was suspiciously quiet for someone who liked to talk so much, but Virgil couldn’t blame him. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and wish he could go back to the beginning. Back to when Roman was just a ghost in his apartment.

Back to when he and Patton and Logan were just people in the school.

Back to when he didn’t care so much about them that his heart seized in his chest at the mere thought of one of them getting hurt.

Back to when he was satisfied being alone.

He tried to throw himself into his work. Psych was up first, but it didn’t help because it was all he could do to look at Logan and not see him the same way Roman had died. He was practically vibrating in his seat with nervous energy, trying to keep away from bad thoughts. It also didn’t help that Logan wasn’t his usual energetic self. On a normal day he would be walking around the room, trying to get the students engaged and lecturing excitedly about whatever topic was at hand.

Now he was just speaking like he was reciting from a textbook. Everyone was trying not to doze off and Logan wasn’t even glaring. The only thing that let people know that he was actually paying attention was that the topic was still accurate and knowledgeable.

Jo leaned over to Virgil toward the end class and whispered, “Hey, what’s up with Logan? He sounds like a robot.”

“He had a rough night,” Virgil said. “Kind of a lot happened in a short amount of time.”

“Yeah, but what would make him so dead, you know?”

Virgil shrugged and turned away. He knew she didn’t mean anything by it, but he couldn’t keep the image out of his mind. He needed a better distraction than this.

For his next class, British Literature, his teacher was a little more energetic. Mrs. Bridges always bounced on the balls of her feet when she was standing—sort of like an idle animation. When she did move, it was like she was trying to use her body to fill in the subtle blanks her words left empty.

She was high energy and just enough for Virgil to distract himself with. It came as a pleasant surprise to her that he participated on his own. He was sure that many of his classmates had no idea what his voice sounded like.

“As you know, Hamlet is one of Shakespeare’s more famous works. It’s a story of betrayal, heartache, and backstabbing—three of Shakespeare’s favorite things. Now, who in here can give an accurate summary of the play?”

Someone in the back said, “If anyone has seen _The Lion King_ , then you basically know what it’s about.”

“Quite true, but there are some key differences. Who can name them?”

Virgil raised his hand. “In the end of The Lion King, there’s a happy ending. At the end of Hamlet, there’s a not so happy ending.”

“Correct. Nice to see you participating, Virgil. Now, can anyone else tell me a difference? There’s at least one more big thing that’s different.”

The class went like that for some time before Virgil’s attention slipped from the topic’s grip and into darker territory.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been doing it. Scribbles ended up on the corner of his page all the time when he was focusing on his work. Most of the time they were nothing but random lines and patterns. Sometimes they could even be mistaken for something.

This time, as they’d been tasked to organize the characters based on how morally right they were (in their own opinion), he’d drawn on the back of the page, tracing out lines he couldn’t remember doing.

“Nice drawing, Virgil, but keep to the task at hand.”

When he blinked, his tired eyes finally focused on what he was doing, and God he wished he hadn’t.

It was more extensive that what he was used to doing, but it was something he recognized: it was the face of the person who had murdered Roman. Except their face had been painted garishly like a theatre mask, golds, reds, and whites clashed violently and suddenly Virgil was no longer in the classroom.

Suddenly he was crawling along the theatre catwalk, trying his hardest to slow his breathing and keep his sweating hands from slipping.

The person was walking along the stage while Virgil was looking down, holding his breath and watching, hoping, prayers that his heart wasn’t beating loud enough for them to hear.

They stopped under the catwalk, looking around for him. When they looked up, he made himself as small as he could behind one of the lights. They began to walk away and once they were out of sight, he let the tears he’d been hiding fall.

Finally.

“Bad choice, my love.” Virgil whipped around at the voice whispering in his ear. They grinned, face paint making everything feel like and fever dream he wished he could wake up from. “Sweet dreams, young prince.”

“Virgil?” He blinked and he was back in the classroom. Everyone was staring at him, but he couldn’t figure out why until he felt the tears fall from his cheeks. He had a white knuckle grip on his textbook and felt that if he let go he would fall apart completely.

He nearly tripped over himself getting out of the classroom.

He just needed some space. Something better to distract him from what he’d seen, what he’d felt. Something that didn’t involve thinking, just doing.

He found himself hovering in front of Patton office door before he even realized where he was going. Patton had become his go to person when he was troubled. They didn’t always talk, but he was comforting to be around. At the moment, though, he was sure Patton had his own feelings to wrangle with and had no time for Virgil’s.

He knocked anyway, feeling selfish for wanting to take away Patton’s time.

He opened the door coffee in hand. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“I was…but I couldn’t-couldn’t focus on anything. And then I couldn’t shut out the thoughts.”

He smiled softly and pulled Virgil in. “You’re not the only one.” Logan was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, with a blanket hanging off his shoulders. “He came in here last hour and he and Roman have been playing charades.”

“Charades?”

“It’s better than doing nothing,” Logan sighed. “It’s also distracting enough because Roman is really bad at it.”

“Hey,” Roman put his hands on his hips, looking horribly affronted. “You lack imagination and that’s why this game is turning out so badly.”

“Imagination—”

“If you put down the creative process one more time…”

Virgil took a deep breath before saying, “I think it’s better if we talk about this. I don’t want to speak for anyone else, but avoiding hasn’t worked and I’d rather think about it by choice than have it sneaking up on me.”

Roman phased through the wall before realizing he couldn’t lean on it. “Maybe you’re right. We can’t avoid. Especially all you fleshy peasants with heartbeats.”

Logan sat up, shrugging the blanket off his shoulder. “At the current time, our options are: leave it to Charlie—”

“No, we can’t do that.”

“—ignore it—not a very sound decision considering what could happen to us, or we could do whatever we can to figure out who is trying to kill us.”

“Also not a sound decision considering what happened to me.”

“It appears that none of these option are great, but the one that holds the most appeal would have to be the last one.” Logan adjusted his glasses as he continued. “For us to ignore it or leave it all to Charlie would be both irresponsible and inconsiderate of them.”

“You’re right, however tempting that may be,” Roman said. “But what can we do about all of this? This…whatever this is…it spans lifetimes. How are the four of us even going to have a chance?”

“Because you’ve got two powerful witches on your side.”

“You’re more dramatic than Roman, Charlie,” Virgil sighed, wishing he hadn’t put his phone on speaker like they’d asked.

“Whatever. Virgil, that face paint person is no fever dream. Joanne’s looking through her archives to try and find where it’s from.” Joanne? What did she have to do with it? “She’s a powerful witch, ya ninny, you should know your neighbors by now,” they said as if they could read his thoughts. “In the meantime, stick together and keep in touch. This may seem tedious, but always tell at least one other person where you’re going if you deviate from your schedule. Your lives are on in danger and if we mess this up, so are your future lives.”

Virgil was already exhausted from last night, but this news made him ever more tired. None of them ever really deviated from their schedules, but if they wanted to do something simple like take another route to school, it’d be a hassle to alert even just one person.

“We’re going to be alright,” Patton said, wrapping his arm around Virgil’s shoulder. “It’s midday, but I doubt any of us will be doing much working. We’ll take you home.”

Virgil had been afraid he’d need to ask them to go with him, but maybe he wasn’t the only one freaking out at the immense possibility of their lives coming to a short end.

God, he hoped he wasn’t the only one.


	7. Grasp

Virgil froze when he opened the door to his apartment. There was something wrong.

“Virge?” Patton peaked over his shoulder, trying to see in. “What’s the matter?”

“Something is wrong here.” He took a tentative step in, looking around to see what made him think that. There was technically nothing wrong. There was still his hamper in the corner and the mattress pressed against the wall. The makeshift picnic had been removed, but the futon was still in the same spot. “Roman? Tell me I’m not crazy.”

“No, you’re unfortunately not.” He floated in, spinning in a slow circle. “I’ve spent enough time trapped here to know when something’s changed.”

It was like someone had taken the place apart and tried to but it back together, almost getting it right.

Almost.

They ignored the door opening in the hallways until Joanne popped her head into the apartment. Her eyes scanned the apartment before saying, “Good, you’re all here. Come with me. Charlie and I have some things to talk to you about.”

Aside from scaring Virgil with her copious amounts of gift baskets, Joanne was a no nonsense woman who believed paths crossed for a reason and it was her job to give help when needed. When she had first come from the Philippines, she’d told him on the day she finally managed to get him to take one of her baskets in person, she had met someone like that. She struggled every day with prejudices and racism and just life because it wasn’t what she was used to. Then one day a woman noticed how little she was able to do, but how hard she tried, and decided to help her. From there, Joanne learned how to drive, speak English, get a better apartment. Her life started to become better.

It was why she came around to every new person in the complex, giving gifts so she could know if they really needed help. Why she bothered Virgil to make sure he was still healthy—or, at least, _his_ version of healthy.

Virgil had few people in his life that he could or should admire, and she was one of them. He liked that she didn’t coddle, but she wasn’t always stone cold. It a perfect balance few could manage and fewer could pull off.

They left without protest—none of them wanted to stay in that apartment any longer than they had to.

Joanne’s apartment, was a lot like Charlie’s except hers was slightly more organized and had more skulls.

They sat at the big, round table Virgil had only glimpsed from time to time. Much like Charlie’s alter table, it was covered in crystals, cards, and plants. The only difference was that there was an assortment of composition notebooks among the mess.

“So, I’ve been looking through my old notebooks because I do remember seeing something like before. It’s an old way recognizing other Gifted bc a great deal of them would go into theatre because it was an easy way to practice while not being potentially outed. They could blame it on “special effects” or whatever and hardly anyone would care.”

She moved from the kitchen with a tray of cups and set one in front of each of them. “Someone who is Gifted is kind of like a witch,” she started, answering the unspoken question, “except their power is drawn strictly from one of the five elements. Vai are Gifted who deal with water, Earthens deal with earth, Inferni deal with fire, Ether deal with air, and Pneuma deal with spirit. Gifted are much more common than witches and generally more powerful since they are master of one whereas witches are masters of some.

“Anyway, the mask and design aren’t used much now because the newer generations don’t really care about recognizing one another that much, but I know some of the older generations still use it for nostalgia’s sake. It was most popular on the east and west coasts, but started in Russia in the 1900’s. I never used it because I was never in the theatre scene much, but the women who mentored me was. In any case, that narrows down the suspects considerably since it’s all but unknown by the younger generation.”

“But the person who did it was younger.” The words spilled out before he could stop them and suddenly all eyes were on him. “I mean, their voice sounded young. The way they moved was so fluid—like an acrobat or something. And they almost had an accent. Like someone from overseas only heard that accent when they were around relatives but not really otherwise.”

“What kind of accent?”

“Australian.” Everyone swiveled their attention to Roman. For the most part, he’d been pretty quiet about whatever recovered memories he had. “It was definitely Australian. Also…I think it was someone who went to the school. I can only remember a bit of it. Like the days leading up to it. I remember feeling scared and threatened so I packed my stuff and decided to take a trip somewhere in hopes the feeling would go away. Then it’s all a blur until I’m at the theatre entrance with a piece of paper in my hand. After that, nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“It’s like whatever memory that used to be there isn’t there anymore. If memories were housed in boxes, this one would be empty.”

Charlie and Joanne exchanged a look, a silent conversation going on between them. Charlie sighed and tightened their grip on their mug. “The memory’s been fractured among the four of you. I forgot to ask, but I’m assuming the four of you experienced the event firsthand, correct.” Everyone nodded in unison. “Okay, well, that means every memory connected to that event has been spread out randomly among the four of you and it’s anyone’s guess how they fit together.”

“Wonderful,” Logan sighed. “One of our few leads is useless.”

Virgil felt like being invisible. Whether anyone said it or not, he knew he was the reason that the memory was all but useless.

“Well,” Patton said. “Even if we had this memory, what could we have done with it? The person obviously knew what they were doing and had enough sense to cover their tracks. The police couldn’t help and even you guys couldn’t figure out that much.”

“Very true, Patton,” Joanne said, flipping through one of the many notebooks. Virgil felt like crying with relief. Even if Patton had just been making an observation, he’d never been more grateful. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re a counselor, right?”

“Yes,” he said, slowly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You have access to all student records. You and Roman could work together to figure out who the suspect could be. Figure out their history. They were lithe like and acrobat, right?”

“Their voice was low like a man, but not someone who’d stopped growing.”

Logan got up from his chair and started pacing. “So we’re probably looking for an upperclassman with acrobatic, dancing, or fighting experience. This person also has a knowledge of theatre history—both natural and supernatural.”

Charlie let out a long sigh. “This is lovely and all but I have to go rest—I’ve been combing that apartment all day and haven’t found anything. Normally magick leaves a mark—kinda like your own personal symbol. However, the apartment is clean save for the energy lurking there. Not even Joanne can place where it’s from.”

“Speaking of energies,” Joanne said, putting down her notebooks. “I need something personal from all of you.”

“Don’t feel like questioning why, but what can you get from a ghost?” Logan looked at Virgil. “What? This is out of my control and they’re the only two who seem to have a good grasp on what’s going.”

“Good question you won’t understand the answer to.” Joanne started to gather her journals. “Virgil, Roman—you two are with me. Patton and Logan, you both are with Charlie. Oh, and if you need a place to stay, you can stay with me, Virgil.”

So many things seemed to have happened in such a short amount of time—he was sure it had barely been half an hour—but he was already so exhausted he would have agreed to stay with almost anyone.

It didn’t take long to move the important things from his apartment to Joanne’s. He didn’t want to take up any room in her apartment with the mattress, and he didn’t want it in the first place, so that stayed. On the other hand, he did want to take his futon, but Joanne put her foot down.

“My old couch has more support than that. If it comes, it’s a couch and barely that.”

He didn’t argue since it was her apartment, she was right, and he wanted to sleep on a real anyway.

His clothes reclaimed their spots in old boxes, the food was integrated into Joanne’s, and when he shut the apartment door, he hoped to never have to open it again.

Naturally, nothing he hoped for ever happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is soooo late I’m sorry! I’ve just been spreading myself too thin with other things and writer’s block it’s just been *inhuman screeching*


	8. A Lonely Little Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A whole freaking year later and I've finally come back to this. Sorry to anyone invested in this before, my life has gotten really hectic since I last updated and it's finally slowing down again. I doubt the updates will be consistent, but I'll do my best to make it so.

It was long time before things started to go south again.

Their frayed nerves calmed after many talks with Charlie and Joanne about what they could do to protect themselves and what they should be expecting. Everyone might have settled more calmly into their routine of constantly checking in with each other if they hadn’t learned about their past lives.

“I need a moment.” Logan got up and walked to the window and threw it open, leaning his head out. Whenever there were too many things on his mind, he got overheated. It was mid-October and the cool breeze was just enough for him.

Of course, Virgil was also having trouble processing what Charlie had told them.

Roman phased through the chair as he laid mid-air on his stomach. “What the heck-ity heck? Five abs and one peck.”

“What a visual,” Logan mumbled from the window.

 “What was that?”

“Just that just little something I’d like to say when I’m confused so that I’m not alone in my confusion. See, it works. So, we were an entire _family_ before we were just us? How in the hell does that happen?”

“Lots and lots of happy accidents,” Charlie said, rolling over on their bed. Joanne was out and about gathering more information from her witch and Gifted friends. Since she didn’t like the idea of Charlie being unsupervised in her apartment, they’d gathered in Charlie’s instead.

They hadn’t gotten up from their bed since Virgil, Logan, Patton, and Roman had come down.

“See, from what Joanne and I could gather, there were about twenty of you at first. Not all blood related but family nonetheless. As a team, you all decided to go up against whoever it is that’s trying to kill you all right now. But, subsequently, you all got wiped out. And from there came the process of the family’s souls’ fusing together a few at a time until we get to you four.

“Except here’s where it get super interesting.” They sat up, an excited smile on their face. “You all were _the_ family. The Family that started harnessing your powers as witches and Gifted instead of suppressing them.”

“Why are you saying that like it has capital letters?”

“Because, in textbooks written by and for the supernatural, it’s capitalized. Logan, keep your nerd mouth shut, you can talk to Joanne about that later. Anyway, the Family made leaps and bounds in studying how spells came to be, why certain herbs and flowers were best for certain rituals, and how to practice without the potential of being outed. For years they paved the way for others to feel comfortable in their own skin and recognize just how amazing they could be.

“But all good things come to an end and they all met their tragic fate when they were outed to their village by an unknown person who was only mentioned as the Mask—an old enemy of theirs. This probably sounds cliché and overused, but they were founded in Salem and were part of the people burned at the pyre for being witches. Jokes on those idiots, Salem is one of the most powerful witches to ever live and the puritans named a city after him.”

Charlie stretched and crossed their legs, kicking a stone from the bed. “In any case, that definitely explains why you’re being hunted. Whoever killed your predecessors wants you dead because you all keep getting in their way in every reincarnation. Of course, this is just an assumption. We don’t actually know it’s the same person—Mask is probably dead by now or else undead or worse. It could just be an unfortunate coincidence that the four of you are experiencing this, but the universe doesn’t believe in coincidences and is hardly so lazy as to stop trying to have fun with the creatures inhabiting it. If it did believe, everything would be much crazier.”

“Your fatalistic logic is aggravating because it’s true,” Virgil sighed as Logan finally came back from the window and lowered himself to the floor next to Virgil. “So what do you propose we do? Since the chances of it not being Mask seems little to none, and honestly I’d be surprised if it wasn’t, they’ve been alive for hundreds of years. Rounding their age, we haven’t even been alive a fourth of their lifetime adding our ages together. We’re barely children to them. How can we do anything about this?”

“Are you saying we should just roll over and show our bellies?” Roman stood, hands on hips. “Should we just give up and not try to make a stand?”

“We should at least try to do something about it,” Patton said, slowly, “If not for ourselves, then for our inevitable reiterations.”

Virgil looked at Logan. He shrugged. “Logically, we have nothing to lose if they aren’t stopped because we’ll just come back and try again, and we have everything to gain if they are. There are many things that could go wrong and frankly, all of this is very terrifying. But, I’m no defeatist. There _is_ something we can do about this. Even if we don’t know what it is right now.”

Virgil crossed his arms, suddenly tired and irritated and…something else. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he didn’t want to be near Logan any longer than he had to be.

He sat quietly while they attempted to hatch a plan, quietly, slowly, going over his feelings.

While, days later, he was still unsure of what he had been feeling, he _was_ sure that the day everything turned south started with a sticky note on Patton’s desk.

All four of them gathered around, staring at the pale-yellow square with the words: _Once Upon a Time/There was a **lonely** little **heart**_.

“It was here when I got here this morning,” Patton was saying. “I didn’t say anything until now because I didn’t want to cause you all to panic.”

“We should get this to Joanne.” Charlie said. They were staring intently at the note, not touching any part of it. Patton had called them as soon as he had gotten into his office and they had performed as many checks on it as they possibly could. Charlie had come up with almost nothing.

“I think it would be best if I accompanied Patton home,” Logan said, shouldering his bag. “If you would be so inclined, I would like to stay the night. Being alone isn’t a good idea right now.”

Patton shook his head, staring at the sticky note. “I would actually love your company right now.”

“Good idea,” Charlie said, carefully picking up the note. “Roman, Virgil—both of you stay by my side until we get to Joanne’s. I’ll see what we can pick up from this.”


End file.
